


“What is this crap?”

by uglyNicc



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, This is utterly pointless I just wanted them having a lazy weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyNicc/pseuds/uglyNicc
Summary: Jack and Rhys spend a lazy morning on the couch....That's it, that's the fic.





	“What is this crap?”

**Author's Note:**

> There is zero plot here I am just a sucker for lazy, sleepy mornings.

"Want coffee?"

"Hnng."

"Sugar?"

"Nnng."

Slumped over the counter in his ratty flannel housecoat, Jack looked as if he'd fallen back asleep. Hair in disarray, his unmasked face was pillowed on his arms folded over the countertop. Looking down, Rhys saw that the older man was only wearing one slipper, his other foot bare against the cool tile.

Rhys, not a morning person by any stretch, was at least functional enough to fill two mugs with steaming hot coffee, dropping three sugars and a heavy pour of cream into one of them. Drinks in hand, he used his elbow to nudge Jack’s shoulder, leading the way to the living room. The grunting lump of flannel shuffled along behind him.

Easing down onto the plush leather sofa, he barely had time to set their mugs on the side table before Jack dropped down heavily, swinging his legs onto the cushions, kicking his one slipper across the room in the process. He lay his head in Rhys' lap, grumbling under his breath as he made himself comfortable.

Rhys yawned, his jaw stretched wide. He rubbed away a tear forming at the corner of his eye with a threadbare, yellow sleeve. He was wearing one of Jack's old Hyperion sweaters, the normally blinding colour faded to a pale, sunny hue.

It was the first weekend in recent memory that neither of them had urgent business or deadlines to meet, and Rhys had convinced Jack to spend their days off getting some much needed rest from their hectic schedules. Jack, who was allergic to inactivity, had grit his teeth and protested, rattling off activities to fill their free time with.

Rhys had listened with a tight-lipped frown, arms crossed, refusing to budge.

No, he would not consider brainstorming ideas for the next release of Hyperion rocket launchers.

No, he refused to call meetings with the heads of security over the recent uptick of office supply theft throughout Helios.

No, he absolutely would not consider a day trip to Pandora to make target practice out of bandits, no matter how “fun” Jack claimed it'd be.

In the end, the CEO had surrendered, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically. Not satisfied until having the last word though, he’d lewdly promised that, if Rhys was going to be a stubborn little shit, the older man would be in charge of their evening activities. Rhys snorted at the memory. If anyone else tried cheesy lines like that on Rhys he'd gag. But this was Handsome Jack, who had a way of making even the most crass come-ons appealing.

Nursing sore and aching muscles, Rhys had to admit that spending a lazy day on the couch felt very well deserved. Jack had been considerate enough to keep everything below the collar this time so he could avoid questioning looks at work, but Rhys was definitely sporting his fair share of bruises and hickeys under the borrowed sweater.

He clicked idly through the assortment of movies and shows airing on the ridiculous number of channels available. Jack snored quietly in his lap, his scarred cheek resting against the worn fabric of Rhys’ sweatpants. Turning the volume down low on a travel program and setting the remote on an armrest, Rhys stretched his lanky body slightly to grab his mug without disturbing Jack. His coffee was a smidgen too sweet, and Rhys sighed contently as the sugary, hot liquid warmed his tired body.

Jack took no notice of Rhys’ movements or of the TV, where the show’s hosts were enjoying an assortment of exotic fruit at a beach house cafe, a magnificent view of Aquator’s vast ocean glittering through the window beyond. The most travelling Rhys had done in his life was the shuttle ride to Helios when he started working for Hyperion years ago, and he’d spent most of that trip heaving into a sickbag.

Muttering something in his sleep, Jack rolled onto his back. There were dark circles under his closed eyes, but asleep, Jack looked several years younger, face marred by the Vault scar but relaxed, almost serene. Awake, Jack was always on guard, ready to burst into reckless action, like a spring wound too tight.

Rhys ran the fingers of his flesh hand gently through the tousled locks falling over Jack's forehead. Barely audible, Jack let out a quiet hum as Rhys combed his fingers through the older man’s dark, grey-streaked hair. His eyes drifted back to the television, where the hosts had moved to the beach, sprawling out on lounge chairs in the golden glow of sunset over the calm, endless waters.

Aquator did look beautiful, Rhys thought, but he knew he’d go crazy within a week being away from Hyperion. Despite the flack he gave Jack for skipping meals and fuelling his work days with coffee rather than a proper night’s sleep, Rhys was just as bad. Though not quite as hardheaded as Jack, the company man recognized that they were running on empty, in dire need of a rest and recharge, even if it was a short one.

“What is this crap?”

Rhys started, not realizing Jack had woken up. He looked to his lap and saw the older man’s head turned to the screen, eyes narrowed and bleary with sleep. Heaving himself up into a sitting position, Jack clumsily reached across Rhys for his mug and the remote. He switched to an all day marathon of an old slasher horror franchise.

“Much better,” Jack mumbled, tossing the remote aside. He leaned back, taking a noisy gulp of his lukewarm coffee as he threw his other arm over the back of the sofa.

Another yawn brought tears to Rhys’ eyes and he dropped his head back onto Jack’s arm. He pointed a finger of his cybernetic hand at the screen. “That guy’s definitely dying next.”

“Bullshit, my money’s on the one with the turtleneck,” Jack retorted, stifling a yawn of his own. They watched in silence, until Jack barked a triumphant “Ha!” as Turtleneck met a ridiculously gory end. Rhys groaned. “Gross, we haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

Not taking his eyes off the movie, Jack dropped his arm from the back of the sofa and draped it over Rhys’ shoulder in his usual, deliberately casual manner. They spent the next half hour debating which character was next, and what their easiest food options were. “AHA! two for two,” Jack grinned, derailing their breakfast planning as another character on screen met a messy end.

Wrinkling his nose at the splashes of fake blood, Rhys relaxed into the couch, shuffling closer to Jack. The older man's robe had come open and Rhys placed his palm flat over the light dusting of hair on Jack's chest.

In no rush to eat, Rhys felt his eyes growing heavy, ready for a pre-breakfast nap. He rested his head against Jack's shoulder, not caring if they didn't leave this spot the rest of the weekend.


End file.
